Five Champions
by SirenPash
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin - only this year there's a twist, Four schools will be competing. Durmstrang - Beauxbaton - Hogwarts - and a new school from the United States. Harry Potter/OMC/Viktor Krum
1. Chapter 1 - Let the Tournament Begin

AN - I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's attached characters.

Five Champions

Chapter 1 – Let the Tournament Begin

* * *

"Colorado Academy of the Magical Arts, more commonly referred to as C.A.M.A, is one of seven magical institutes in The United States of America. Settled among the quaking aspens trees, in a town of the same name, students age eleven to eighteen study year round learning to harness and control their magical talents."

Dr. Stephens' voice carried through the heavy doors of the Great Hall in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I and seventeen others stood waiting to be introduced into the welcoming feast. Our arrival to the Castle had been late, so we hadn't had an opportunity to see any of the student body – visiting or otherwise.

Not that they would have been impressed by our entrance, we had simply Portkeyed into the town called Hogsmeade, and then carriages pulled by what I imagined must have been thestrals (not that I could see them) pulled us up to the strangely named school.

"May I present the students of C.A.M.A!" Dr. Stephens finished and all of us stood a little bit taller. I stood back, not wanting to be trampled as the doors swung open and students began to shove their way in.

"Well, there goes any chance of looking like a dignified student body." I muttered to myself. I quickly looked around, hoping none of my colleagues had heard me, to see that everyone else had already filed into the Hall and were claiming what few seats remained. Any thoughts of dignity vanished as I rushed after them, tripping on my robes. I smashed headlong into the stone floor, my knees burning from the impact and red lines of blood began to form on my now scraped palms.

Dr. Stephens spoke over the snickers as I scrambled to right myself, "Take your seat Mr. Isolde." I frantically searched for a seat, yearning to quickly find a place so I could be out from under the scrutiny of my peers.

"With haste, Mr. Isolde!"

A whimper left my lips, and I silently pleaded for someone, anyone, to point out an empty seat. My eyes began to cloud with tears, and the familiar heat of a blush bloomed across my throat and on the tips of my ears.

Just as Dr. Stephens was about to bark at me again, the man seated at the head table with snowy white hair and a beard to match, wearing puce robes, and half-moon spectacles spoke. "Joshua, please excuse my poor planning but it seems we've run out of room. Mr. Isolde, was it? If you'd be so kind as to join us here at the head table, there is an open seat by Professor Hagrid I believe."

As the aforementioned Professor rose to make himself known, another round of snickers graced the Hall. Directed towards me, or the fact that the professors rising caused the entire head table to practically tip over, I didn't know. I had, had enough and I practically flew to my seat and sunk down into the chair.

Dumbledore (the bearded man) rose and a silenced settled over the Great Hall. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman, ghosts, and – most particularly – guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will both be comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourself at home."

He sat down, and the golden plates in front of everyone filled with food. I looked around as students began to fill their individual plates.

"Yer hands alright?"

Professor Hagrid was massive and his voice, though booming, was gentler than I would've expected. "You took quite a spill there."

"Yeah," I began, blushing once again, "I'm not really use to this European robes. They're longer than we have back in the states."

"You should let Madame Pomfrey take a look – don't wan' yer hands getting infected do ye?"

Before I could even responded he had already flagged down the medi-witch who, with two flicks of her wand, had my hands cleaned and bandage bound.

"That's better don' ya think? The name's Rubeus Hagrid, Professor in Care of Magical Creatures – and keeper of Keys and Grounds."

"Greyson Isolde, 9th grader… er fourth year, Majoring in Curse Making."

Talking with Hagrid was honestly the most natural and enjoyable conversation I'd ever had. I was beyond disappointed that his tales of working with some creature called a Blast-Ended Skrewt had to be cut short – but with a promise of tea and the rest of the story at a later date, we both turned to the once again standing headmaster.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament… I'm sorry Four wizard tournament" he corrected with a smile towards Dr. Stephens "is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation as we bring the casket in. Mr. Filch, if you would.

"As you know, three" He chuckled, "Pardon me, Four, champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after the third task will win the Cup."

Dumbledore tapped the top of the casket which had been brought to the front as he had been talking. The casket melted away to reveal an unassuming wooden goblet. The only real interest to it was the blue flames that danced along the brim.

"To ensure that no underage student feels too tempted, I will be drawing an age line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. All students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbaton must be seventeen to cross the line. Any student from C.A.M.A who has completed, with their guardians mind you, the necessary permission slips may participate."

Grumbles of disbelief and moans of 'unfair' passed around the Hall, while any C.A.M.A student seated next to another shared high fives. Dumbledore continued on of the dangers of participation, but I had tuned him out. Every student from the U.S., all eighteen of us, had plans to enter. In order to be eligible to even go on the trip here you had to present the forms of Eligibility. Chances of me being chosen were slim, I knew that. But my mother had practically threatened me to enter. Her words echoed in my head.

"Of course, you'll be chosen, and of course you'll win. Because if you aren't it means you weren't strong enough… and if that's the case…

"I don't know why you'd even bother coming home."

FC

* * *

AN - This will be a Viktor/OC (Greyson Isolde)/Harry Potter story, I'm not quite sure how that'll all work - but I really want this story to take off.

a run down on Greyson (for those of you who yearn for a description NOW even if it will come later.)

Age - 14 (Fifteen in november (This story begins on October 30th)

Height - 5'3"

Build - Slim with light muscle from Dueling Club. His skin is pale with raspberry colored lips

Hair - Shaved Close on the side with a long top that hangs close to covering his right eyes ending about mid cheek. Jet Black.

Eyes - Ice blue with flecks of silver and grey.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Goblet of Fire

FC

Five Champions

Chapter 2 – The Goblet of Fire

* * *

The next day passed in much the same way as any other Saturday. I woke up, far earlier than most students my age, and headed to breakfast. My stomach in knots from placing my name in the flaming goblet when I had entered the hall, I quickly found a seat (this time at a student table thankfully) and ate a light breakfast. Not surprisingly, very few other students were in the hall. I looked around and was pleased to see that – of the few students present – I wasn't the only one dressed in a school uniform. Although, in comparison, I still felt under dressed.

While European uniforms were of light silk, stiff dress pants, and heavy robes in shades of black and red – C.A.M.A's uniforms were much more relaxed. I wore a pair of, dress code approved, dark denim skinny jeans with a heavy white sweater, tightly fitted through the sleeves and ending about mid-thigh in length. Really, the only parts of my outfit that looked uniform were the small, pointed, teacup witch hat – angled to the left – and the black shoulder cape ending a few inches above my elbows, tightly clasped at my neck with a dark purple gem set in a twisted gun-metal, framed brooch.

I was finishing the last of my mint teas when a loud bang resounded through the hall. Sprawled across the stone floor, just outside the golden age line that encircled the Goblet of Fire, were two boys of identical appearance. Flaming red hair, freckles on every inch of revealed skin, and most notably two beards – snowy white and growing at an alarming rate. I stared, as Dumbledore entered – inaudibly speaking with the twins – and tried to comprehend what I had just seen. When it finally clicked, I lost it, and joined everyone else in laughter. Once I started, all the other insecurities I had bottled up about entering the tournament melted away – leaving me, for the first time since my mother filed my permission forms, feeling oddly relaxed and euphoric. Of course, that only lasted a few more moments until I realized that I was the only one still laughing. I sobered immediately and busied myself with pouring a new cup of tea.

"Hi."

The new voice jarred me and I almost dropped my now full cup. As it was, tea sloshed out and scalded my hands.

"Oh! Here, let me help. I'm sorry; I hadn't meant to frighten you like that."

"Its fine, its fine. I'm just easily startled I suppo… Oh you don't have to do that!" But the stranger had already started to mop up the table.

"You can use this to wipe off your hands." He offered out a fresh napkin as he spoke. "I'm Harry by the way, Harry Potter. Fourth year, Gryffindor." He looked up at me when he introduced himself and I was floored by the vibrancy of his eyes.

"Greyson Isolde, fourth year at C.A.M.A." I tried to maintain eye contact, but I kept glancing down at my own hands.

Another Hogwarts student appeared over Harry's shoulder. "Fourth year… you would have just started majoring, yes? I'm Hermione; sorry I missed your name."

"This is Greyson. Grey, that's Hermione and the bloke behind her, is Ron." Harry answered for me. Ron nodded his head in recognition as Hermione started.

"You did just start majoring, didn't you?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm in the Cursemaking Program."

"Cursemaking? Isn't that a little… you know…"

"Dark." Ron interjected.

How blunt he was had my laughing again.

"Ronald!" Hermione admonished smacking him on the arm.

"It's alright. Admittedly, yes, it is considered by most to be a dark art."

"See?" Ron defended.

"However, I've found that intimate knowledge on how a curse is formed will lend itself to working on a cursebreak." It was silent for a while, while they puzzled through my response. Ron, however, had decided that it was time for a change of subject.

"Competing in the tournament then?"

"I've entered at least."

"You American students have all the luck, getting to take part. Wish I could enter."

"I'd give you my form if I could…" I muttered beneath my breath.

Whether or not they heard me, or simply chose to ignore me, remained unknown but the conversation carried on as light conversation. And not too much later, they excused themselves. As Ron and Hermione headed towards the heavy wood doors, Harry stood behind. Throughout the conversation we had played an interesting game of trying to watch each other without the other noticing. Neither of us were any good at it, if our constantly locking eyes, reddening from blush, and the occasionally smile were any indication.

"Would you like to sit with me at dinner?"

"I'm sorry?" The question, while straightforward, caught me off guard.

"At dinner," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I just thought maybe you'd like to sit with me. Well, not just me, Ron and Hermione would be there as well. Not that I'd mind if it was just the two of us, but…" He was backpedaling, and becoming increasingly flustered. The image had me giggling and, not surprisingly, that seemed to agitate him more. He stuttered out an apology and turned to retreat.

I'm not sure what came over me, but seeing him leave so dejectedly had my heart stuttering. My body acted of its own volition and I found myself twisted in my seat, my hand clasped around his wrist, baring his retreat. "I'm sorry, I'd love to sit with you." He broke into a grin at that, and I found myself effortlessly returning it.

"Great! That's great, really great. I'll see you tonight then, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah… that's great."

"You've said that already." I said between giggles.

"Did I? Sorry, it's just really…"

"Great?"

He chuckled – a throaty sound, very pleasing to the ear. "Yeah, Great. Well, see ya." And he continued after his friends, who had taken to waiting just outside the great hall.

* * *

Maybe I was making a bigger deal out of this than was really necessary, but in the hour before dinner I spent my time in front of my changing mirror trying outfit after outfit. The day had passed in a blur, mainly because I spent all of it stressing about dinner. _He's probably not even attracted to guys. _That thought sobered me from any and all delusional fantasies that had played through my imagination. I pulled off my silvery grey formal robes, and dressed back into my casual uniform that I'd worn during the day. Satisfied with my appearance I made my way out of the dungeon beside the Slytherin Common Room, and up once again towards the Great Hall.

Already the hall was filling with people, and I was starting to worry that I'd never find Harry in the sea of students. However, as I neared the doors, my worries were unfounded, for standing just inside, and drawing a bit of attention in elegant black dress robes was my dinner date.

_Not a date! _I reminded myself.

He looked incredibly uncomfortable and was tugging on his sleeves rather forcibly. He hadn't noticed my entrance, so claiming the element of surprise I stood behind him and spoke.

"Well, don't you look dashing! Now I feel underdressed." He jumped at my voice and whipped around, a scowl on his face.

"Oh shut it." He was still pulling on his sleeves.

I did my best to contain the laughter bubbling in my throat, and held out a hand. "Here, take off your cloak." Giving me an incredulous look, he pulled the dark material of his toned shoulders and passed it to me.

It took me a minute to get a good look at the thick grey sweaters of passing Hogwarts students, but once I had a firm image in my head I held up the cloak and ran my hand across the rough fabric. A shimmer of magic followed my hand and what once was dressing robes morphed to match the Hogwarts sweaters.

"Whoa…" Harry took the now sweater back and pulled it on – messing his already unruly hair and sending his bow tie askew. "Where did you… how… you didn't even use a wand."

"Of course not," I stepped close and began to attempt managing his hair. "American magic doesn't use wands, it uses focus crystals." I touched the brooch clasped at the base of my throat. "I'll tell you more about it later."

I backed away, giving his appearance a once over before changing his black bow tie into the red and gold necktie of other Gryffindor's.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Why the full dress robes, anyways?" And he was back to stuttering out incomplete and incoherent sentences, as he led me to the table were Ron and Hermione already sat.

As soon as the four headmasters and 2 ministry officials were seated dinner carried out in much the same fashion as the previous night. I was engaged in conversation multiple times by so many of Harry's fellow Gryffindor friends, that I found it impossible to keep track of names. During a lull in conversation I surveyed the crowded hall. Apparently the student body was eager for the feast to end, and for the rest of the night's activities to head underway, if the craning necks and impatient expressions were any indication. I noticed too, that very few of the exchange students were mingling. The majority of C.A.M.A sat huddle together. Only four, including myself, were actually participating in this "Cultural Exchange". Beauxbaton – while approached by many – sat huddled together as well. By my count, not one had dared to converse with another student.

All of Durmstrang sat mixed throughout the Slytherin table however. It was while I was taking note of this that the eyes of one Durmstrang student bore into my own. He was thin – but in a way that screamed of athleticism. Thick black eyebrows and a hooked nose gave him an intimidating, but intriguingly regal appearance.

I sat entranced and stared into those dark eyes until he did something even more unexpected. He gave me a few more moments of his intense gaze, and then he winked. That one action convinced me he was teasing me and I turned away, just as Dumbledore rose.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision, I estimate it requires one more minute. Now, when a champions name is called, I would ask them to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through to the next chamber," he indicated a door behind the staff. "where they will receive their first instructions."

With a great wave of his wand, any free-standing candle was extinguished. The only light now came from the Jack-o-lanterns decorating the room, and from the goblet itself, casting looming shadows from its flickering blue flames.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red, and from a shower of sparks and a jet of flame, a charred piece of parchment fluttered through the air. The Hogwarts' headmaster snatched the parchment, read it quickly, and then spoke.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

A grand applause swept through the hall – even Ron could be heard voicing his approval. And the boy who had winked rose and walked heavily towards the front. Once Viktor had gone into the next chamber, and Karkaroff had finished booming his own praises for his champion, the hall once again focused on Dumbledore. Again red, a second piece of parchment burst from the flaming goblet.

"For Beauxbaton, Fleur Delacour!" Again cheers dominated – a majority of them male by the look of things, but as before attention swiveled to Dumbledore as the heavy door in front shut behind Fleur.

From the third tongue of flame the headmaster read, "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" The thunder of applause was unlike any thus far. The floor shook, and the students voiced praises long after the Hogwarts' champion had left the room. When the hall finally quieted, the aged wizard read from a paper already in his hand. The goblet had chosen while we students had been lost in applause.

"From Colorado Academy of the Magical Arts – Greyson Isolde." There was no cheering – and if it wasn't for the polite applause of recognition the hall would've been silent. I walked swiftly from my seat to the door once I remembered how legs worked. However, not even half way down the hall, the goblet glowed red, sparked, and with a tongue of flame a fifth piece of parchment fluttered into Dumbledore's hand. There was a long pause, but finally Dumbledore cleared his throat and read.

"Harry Potter."


	3. Chapter 3 - Three Became Five

FC

Five Champions

Chapter 3 – Three Became Five

The next few days often found me staring out the large glass window in the Slytherin Common Room, as a giant squid floated lazily through the green lit lake. The night of the champions' announcement had been a total disaster. Harry, once his name had been pulled from the Goblet, had been in ushered in the room, where he merely sat looking lost and dejected as the older champions and Professors made him out to be some grand hooligan, with no regards to the rules, and only wishing to boost his already significant fame. I'm ashamed to admit, when I had heard his name read by Professor Dumbledore the first thought that ran through my mind was 'How did he manage that?' It wasn't until I saw his face that I realized he was just as confused by the whole situation as the rest of us.

I had tried to talk to him after, to let him know that I believed him, but Dr. Stephens decided it best to pull me aside and share with me his new set of rules.

"I don't know why the Goblet decided to choose you, of all the students C.A.M.A has to offer, but I will tell you this Mr. Isolde. If you disgrace our school during this tournament, with any of that black magic your family is so known for, I will personally see to it that you are expelled and your magic bound. Do I make myself clear?"

I couldn't find it in myself to honor him with a response so I simply turned around, and hurried down to my room in the Slytherin Common Room. Dr. Stephens had always held a grudge against any student who pursued majoring in Curse Making, but this was the first time he had ever made his animosity towards me and my family's history so blatantly obvious.

Pulling myself from wallowing in self-pity, I pulled myself out of the low black leather chair I had curled up in and walked to the dining hall. I found Ron and Hermione seated at the Gryffindor table but was confused to see that Harry wasn't with them. Actually it appeared as though Harry wasn't anywhere in the room. I was just about to go and ask the two Gryffindor's if they knew were Harry was, when an accented voice sounded behind me.

"You are Greyson, yes? The American champion?"

Turning around I found myself staring at a rather broad shouldered chest, looking up had me making eye contact with the Durmstrang Champion Viktor Krum. "Uh, Yeah, and you're Krum, right?"

He nodded to let me know I had been correct in naming him. "Perhaps you vould like to join me for breakfast? I vould prefer to not sit with those from that Slytherin house again."

"Uh…" I looked from Viktor back over to Ron and Hermione to see Hermione storming off from the table with several pieces of toast clutched in a napkin. Ron just glowered at the table while she left. "Sure. I'd be happy to join you for breakfast."

He gave me a nod and then began walking over to the Ravenclaw table, which appeared to be the emptiest of the four tables. I followed him over and sat across from him, pouring myself some of the same mint tea I had indulged in yesterday, while he poured himself what smelled to be coffee. He never spoke, just ate and occasionally would look at me. Each time my skin would flush red and I would stare into my tea cup but not without noticing the small smile that would pull at the corner of his mouth with my reaction.

* * *

The next couple of days found me eating my meals with Krum fairly consistently, when he wasn't pulled away by his adoring fans (the fact I hadn't known he was an international Quidditch player had given him quite the shock). Krum, while seemingly moody and sullen, had turned out to be quite the conversationalist when it was just the two of us, and I often found myself listening to him regale me with tales of Durmstrang, and his homeland of Bulgaria. It had taken three meals before he realized that I was too shy to pick up a conversation on my own. On top of dining with Krum, my free time begin to be filled with joining him on the Quidditch pitch while he practiced flying and other nuances of the game. He had tried to explain the game to me several times, but I still hadn't fully grasped the concept. Quadpot was much more popular in the US and I personally didn't understand that game either.

Occasionally I would join Krum in flying rounds around the pitch. He had been completely flabbergasted when I had mounted my broom side saddle.

"Flying isn't taught at C.A.M.A, except as an elective course. My mother said wasting an elective to learn how to fly on a broom was foolish, when she herself could teach me." He merely continued to stare at me like I had grown two heads before touching down and showing me how to fly 'properly'.

* * *

When I wasn't working on school work, spending time with Krum, or staring out beneath the lake, I was busy trying to talk to Harry. He was always surrounded though, by Hermione (Ron seemed to be actively avoiding him), or by other Hogwarts students. I was disgusted to see how he was treated, _Potter Stinks _badges aside he was often ridiculed by other students, who all claimed him to be a fame seeking trouble maker.

When I had finally managed to find Harry alone, I had called out asking him to wait up so I could talk to him. He turned around, startled it seems to find that I was the one to call him before he threw me a strange look and hurried down the hall, away from my pursuit. A million questions ran through my head at that moment. Had I done something to upset him? Did he truly believe I thought him as guilty as everyone else did? Why was he ignoring me?

* * *

Once we, C.A.M.A, finally got comfortable enough with the schedule set by Dr. Stephens we began to fill some more of our free time reinstating some of the clubs we had back home. One club that everyone seemed to miss and the first to be worked into our schedules was Dueling Club.

Dueling Club, for fairly obvious reasons, was the most popular of the clubs at school. Practically every student at one point was a member; after all, not many would pass up an opportunity for more active practice of our DADA magics. This was my first year as a club participant, and honestly I hadn't been presented too many opportunities to be in a duel pairing, but the knowledge I managed to gather from simply watching some of the older student's duel I considered to be invaluable.

I was currently watching Krum practice Quidditch with some of his Durmstrang companions, when the pocket watch necklace I had taken to wearing began to give off a reddish glow. A five minute warning for Dueling Club, I had set earlier that morning. I flagged Krum down from his laps around the Pitch, and he flew to hover over my seat in the stands. Placing himself perfectly to block the few rays of sun that broke through the cloud cover from glaring in my eyes as I looked up to him.

"Wonderful form as usual." I teased, and Krum snorted knowing full well I had little to no knowledge about any broom based sport, and the forms that may or may not be required. "I have to get going though; dueling club starts in a few minutes."

"Vould you like me to join you?"

"You still have a few minutes of practice left don't you? Don't trouble yourself, I know you look forward to your time up here, I'll just see you at dinner all right?"

He gave me a studious look before responding.

"And If I vanted to come vith you?"

I gave him a puzzled look. "I mean, you're more than welcome to come with, but I doubt it'll be much fun. Watching students toss Throwback Hexes and Shielding Charms is never too exciting."

"That is all you do?"

"Well I mean more talented spell casters might throw something more exciting in to the mix, but with the smaller pool of students, I doubt it will be anything too exciting though."

"Vell I Vould like to come vith you. If that's alright?"

I felt the blush bloom across my cheekbones and down my neck.

"Uh… sure. I'd like that."

* * *

Luckily I wasn't called for a duel, and was saved from any embarrassment that might have stemmed from being so closely observed by Krum. Even just watching other student's duel I was always aware of his gaze which seemed to bore into my every movement.

And so we fell into a sort of pattern, Krum would be waiting outside of my dorm or my classes and then walk with me to the Great Hall for whatever meal it was time for. We'd spend all of our free time together as well, and I was quite pleased to say that I had found in Krum an incredible reliable and exciting friend.

I tried several other times to try and speak with Harry, but each time he would somehow manage to sneak away. It was difficult, I wasn't really certain what I had down to earn this treatment of being ignored, but he had made it perfectly clear he did not want to speak to me.

Currently I sat in the Great Hall alone, working on my course work for my Major. As the only student from Curse Making, Dr. Stephens hadn't found it necessary to have a substitute Curse Maker attended with me in like he had down with the other Majors, so I simply had a rather substantial list of essays that I was to owl to my Professor back in the US.

I was chewing on the end of my pencil – I would never understand how Europeans could stand to use Ink and Quills, sure it looked cool I suppose, but it was ridiculous outdated – when a younger Hogwarts student barged through the doors, shouting out my name.

"Greyson Isolde? That's you right?"

I was a little overwhelmed by how close he got to my face so subtly trying to lean away I answered "Uh… Yeah. Did you need something?"

"Excellent! I'm Colin Creevey, Gryffindor. I was told to find you and bring you to the third classroom on the fifth floor, something to do with the tournament."

"Oh, alright, well lead the way I suppose."

He gave me a bright smile, still too close for my comfort. "We have to stop and pick up one my champion from the Dungeons, but it shouldn't take too long. Follow me."

So I did, and my word could this boy talk. He chattered on and on about the excitement of the tournament and how 'no offense, but I'm personally rooting for Harry. But Cedric wouldn't be bad either, Hogwarts pride and all that.' I simply nodded and gave him a small smile. This boy certainly was an exhausting fellow. We reached a heavy door in the Dungeons, and with a request to wait out here, I stood as Colin entered the classroom.

I didn't have to wait long before he scurried out followed closely by the one champion I hadn't really expected. Harry.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" Asked Colin, who started speaking before Harry had even managed to finish closing the door behind him. "Isn't it, though? You being a champion?"

Harry seemed to freeze as he turned around and noticed me standing beside Colin, but with a beat, he answered as he followed Colin up the stairs towards the fifth floor. Never once taking his eyes from my own.

"Yeah, really amazing, what do they want photos for Colin?"

"The _Daily Prophet_, I think!"

"Great," said Harry dully, finally turning away, "exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" Said Colin when we had reached the right room. Harry knocked on the door and we entered.

It was a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however had been placed together, forming a sort of long table in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs were placed behind the velvet desk, and seated; in the midst of conversation with a witch in magenta robes was Mr. Bagman.

Viktor was standing moodily in the corner, not talking to anybody, although he seemed to perk up a bit when he noticed that I had just been brought up to the room. Cedric and Fleur were in a conversation. Fleur looking once again abnormally stunning, throwing her head back so her long silvery hair caught the light. A cameraman also stood in the room, paying a great deal more attention to Fleur than I thought was appropriate.

Spotting Harry – And paying no attention to me – Bagman leapt from his seat, ignorning his previous companion, and bounded forward. "Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come… nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment –"

Harry was of course pulled into a conversation following, and feeling uncomfortable standing beside him and being so blatantly ignored, I left to join Viktor in his corner.

"How long have you been here?" I asked as a greeting.

"Not very long, only a few minutes before you arrived."

"Do you know what this is about?"

"The veighing of the vands, just a vay to make sure that our vands are in a good order."

"I see." I answered, wondering how they planned to 'weigh' my focus crystal when it would only answer to my magic.

We stood waiting in relative silence while Harry was ushered into a broom closet with the with in magenta robes. Krum and I spoke back and forth, never going to deep in a conversation in preparation for the ceremony to begin. About 15 minutes later Dr. Stephens, and the other judges entered the room as well. They took their seats at the velvet table while Dumbledore managed to extract Harry from the broom cupboard, he and the unknown Witch having a back and forth dialogue, that well pleasant on the surface, seemed to house a much deeper resentment.

"May I introduce, Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his seat at the judges' table and addressing the room. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Mr. Ollivander was a frail looking old wizard, with large pale eyes.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…" he said

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," finished Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. Too tempermental… however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, I imagne checking for any scratches or bumbs; then he muttered, "_Orchideous!_" and bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping out the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as she passed.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn… must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition… you treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

I noticed as Harry surreptitiously began to try and rub his wand clean, only stopping when his wand began to shot out golden sparks.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Krum nudged my shoulder as he got up, and then slouched, round shouldered, and duck footed, towards Mr. Ollivander.

_Odd, _I thought to myself, _Krum never walks like that when it's just the two of us._

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, Krum's wand in hand, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however…"

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes… hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches…"

I couldn't help it, but the way Mr. Ollivander was so carefully studying the wand paired with his words, small giggles erupted from my chest in bursts. The room gave me a rather patronizing look except for Harry, Krum, and Mr. Bagman who all gave me looks that varied from confused to amused.

"_Avis_!" Mr. Ollivander finally intoned. The hornbeam wand let out a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Mr. Potter?"

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember"

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"And finally," Mr. Ollivander turned, his pale eyes boring almost manically into my own, "Mr. Isolde."

I walked up, unpinning my focus crystal from the collar of my cape, and ignored as it fell from my shoulders onto the floor. Mr. Ollivander's hands were already cupped and waiting for me to deposit the dark purple gem into.

"I have been looking forward to examining this," he said. "I only got the opportunity to see a few during my travels to gather some heartstring from the North American Thunderbird, but found the material to be too volatile for my liking."

Mr. Ollivander spent a long while examining the gem under a summoned light from his own wand, turning it back and forth, searching for any cracks in the gem or rust to the metal brooch that framed it.

"Now," he spoke, "A dear friend of mine from America gave me a spell that will allow me to gret a glimpse at how well your crystal is magnifying your magical power, but I have to warn you it will be uncomfortable. I'll be forcibly manipulating your magic into its natural state. I should think it'll be exciting to see how that takes form, don't you?"

I nodded, suddenly very nervous at the thought of someone else's magic in such close proximity to my own. I was surprised however when Dr. Stephens stood from his seat and spoke, walking towards me.

"Mr. Ollivander, I've had the spell you've mentioned performed on me before, and I must say it's more than uncomfortable, it's practically like using the Cruciatus curse on the owner of the gem." The entire room gasped, and I felt the blood leave my face and my body began to shake uncontrollable.

He continued "I understand it's necessary to determine the status of Mr. Isolde's gem, but I think it best we get him as comfortable as possible. Come Mr. Isolde, it's probably best if you take a seat."

If I hadn't been so frightened I might have wondered why Dr. Stephens was being so kind, but as it was I couldn't really think anything outside of 'I don't want this to happen'.

I took my seat and Mr. Ollivander followed to stand just in front of me, Dr. Stephens behind me, and Krum beside me. He lifted my clenched fist, and gently pried it open to hold in his own, trying to shoot me a comforting smile.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Isolde," said Mr. Ollivander. "I'm going to begin. _Tempero!"_

There was no way to prepare myself for the pain that followed, it was as if someone had reached inside my chest and twisted my lungs, I couldn't breathe and yet my throat was burning from screaming. The burn was in stark contrast from the ice cold that seemed to pour from every inch of my skin.

When the pain finally cleared the first thing I noticed was the feeling of two hands clasped in my own, one rubbing what I imagined might have been soothing circles, if every nerve ending didn't feel as though they were being ripped from my body, into the back of my hand, and the other squeezing so tight I couldn't even feel my fingertips. Another pair of hands rested lightly on my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see Krum sitting as close as possible, still rubbing the circles, and Harry squeezing the life out of my other hand. I gave them both a smile, too tired to wonder why Harry was worried, before I pulled my hands from both of their grasps. Dr. Stephens lifted his hands from my shoulders, and after some digging in the pockets of his pants pulled a vial that I immediately identified as a pain reliever.

With the potion finally easing my frayed nerves I had the opportunity to see what form my magic had taken.

The entire room was covered in an icy frost, and everyone's breath fogged in the air.

"Well Mr. Isolde," Said Ollivander, "Everything seems to be in working order. Once again, I apologize I…" I never managed to hear what else he had to say as I fell to floor and the room darkened to black.

* * *

AN – I'm so sorry for everyone who has to wait for these updates, I write all of these chapters out in pen during any free time I manage to snag, but so rarely have an opportunity to type them out and post them.

I promise, none of my stories are being abandoned. And will do my best to get updates out faster!

Thank you for all the Reviews and PMs! And thank you to everyone who bears with me as I try and get these posted.


End file.
